A Taste
by LEMarauder
Summary: Complete. Buffy has an odd request for Angel. A small, introspective one-shot inspired by 'Worlds Apart' from author Taaroko. Read and review them both!


_Buffy, the Vampire Slayer _

_A Taste_

A/N: This scene is inspired by the canon of 'Worlds Apart', the alternate version of Season 3 by author, Taaroko. Special thanks to this talented authoress for not only allowing me to play with her world, but also beta-ing this for me!

A/N: In the end, it's still all Joss'

- -

Tonight was one of those rare occasions when Sunnydale's entire demon population seemed to be taking the night off. Over the last three hours, Buffy and Angel had dutifully patrolled through eight of the twelve cemeteries within the city limits without encountering so much as a fledging. Faith, quite in her element in her double-agent role, had checked in earlier that evening to report that the Mayor was currently more interested in miniature golfing than discussing plans for global destruction.

"Would you- like to come back to my place?" Angel offered hesitantly once they decided to call it a night.

_Would I rather be _any _place else? _Buffy thought to herself, but settled on saying, "Yeah. That sounds nice." She could never help noticing that every time she agreed to this, Angel's mouth would curve briefly into a small, excited smile, as if he would never grow fully accustomed to her wanting to be near him so often.

_If he only knew the half of it, _Buffy sighed mentally, as they walked hand in hand back to the center of town.

_ _

"Every girl should have a boyfriend who cooks." Buffy proclaimed happily half an hour later.

She was perched on her favorite cushion in the living room of Angel's apartment watching him enter from the kitchen balancing a tray- whatever was on it smelled delicious.

"Glad you approve," he replied, careful not to upset the tray as he sat down to join her. It was French toast, lightly dusted with powdered sugar. Two glasses stood next to the plate: one half-full of frothy orange juice, the other containing a dark ruby liquid.

Buffy had been adamant about Angel getting over his discomfort of drinking blood in front of her. She knew that he always took a swig from one of the bottles in his fridge while he cooked for her, but hated to bring any out where she could see.

"It's just food," Buffy had insisted the last time this happened. "Couples eat together and that's what you eat. I'm not grossed out- no, I'm _not- _Deal." And so tonight, the pig's blood, looking rather macabre next to the cheerful juice, had been placed on the tray as well.

At first, Buffy smiled rather smugly at it, a reminder of her victory, something Angel did _not _fail to notice. He rolled his eyes and took an unwilling sip.

"Thank you." Said Buffy pointedly. she was quiet for a moment, and then, addressing her toast, added quietly—

"Can I have a taste?"

Angel almost choked. Whatever he had been expecting, it was certainly not that. He hastily lowered the glass from his lips. "What?" He managed through a slight cough.

"Well," said Buffy pushing herself up a little higher on her elbows, "It's just something I've been curious about for a long time. I-I mean I know it wouldn't be the same for me, of course. I just figure since I spent my nights -most nights anyway- dusting vamps so they can't get their hands on this stuff, I kind of want to know what the fuss is about." She finished and peered intently at him.

"They don't kill to get their hand on this stuff," Angel said, sitting up too, "believe me." A wry smile was twisting its way over his features as he contemplated the glass in his hands. For a moment, Buffy forget all about their conversation as that expression forcibly reminded her of the amused, slightly arrogant (but still ridiculously sexy) way he had spoken to her during their first meeting... _"Is there a problem, ma'am?" _Buffy mentally shook herself free of this distracting imagery.

"You can taste it if you want," Angel continued dubiously, "just...prepare to hate it."

He handed her the glass. She accepted it with the slightest trace of defiance in her eyes and held his gaze while she raised the cup to her lips. It was like drinking a liquidized penny. Off the street. That everyone and their dog had walked on. Buffy did not flinch, but the grimace as she swallowed convulsively was unmistakable.

Angel raised his eyebrows, no doubt questioning her sanity, as she gingerly replaced the cup on the tray. "Still not sure what you wanted to accomplish with that," he said. Buffy shrugged, washing the bloody aftertaste away with the orange juice, and then,

"Wanted to know what it's like for you, I guess. Does it ever drive you crazy? Not being able to have what you're meant to?"

Angel considered this. Did it? It was an interesting question. As Angelus, he recalled grimly, the very idea of consuming anything other than human blood was disgusting. Unthinkable. Beneath him. After that, though, a hundred years of feeding off vermin and swine (with only two terrible exceptions, and those still haunted him) _had _been tiresome from time to time. He never dared complain though, for it vastly outweighed the alternative: to acquiesce to the vicious primal instincts screaming for release deep down inside him...

But no. That urge and that thirst would never again control his actions. Although he could recall perfectly the delicious scent and satisfying taste of humans, the revulsion that accompanied it was overwhelming. Odd how comforting that was.

Angel suddenly became aware that he had yet to answer the question aloud. "No," he said firmly. "If you'd asked me last year, I might have said a little, but I was in Hell for so long without _anything_ that I haven't even noticed."

Buffy winced, as she always did at any of 'the H-word.' In response, Angel leaned over and wrapped an arm comfortingly around her waist. "Hey," he whispered, "It's okay. I don't feel it anymore. Hell _or _the mad desire to devour humans."

That earned a grudging smile. Buffy sighed and leaned in closer. "Thanks, she said, looking up at him, "for being level-guy with me."

He kissed the top of her head. "Safe", he kissed her again but this time aimed a little lower, "as houses."

- -

On the opposite side of town, one light remained on in City Hall. On the top floor, a lonely florescent bulb illuminated the Mayor's office where he and Buffy Summers' sister Slayer were quite alone. Beaming like a proud father, he presented Faith with two things: a gleaming new crossbow and a tiny little bottle with a faded Latinate inscription: Homicida Manium,

Killer of the Dead.


End file.
